


Untitled

by starcrossed (starsandnightskies)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Drabble, M/M, Stiles-centric, its a drabble thing mostly, like two sentences of dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 16:42:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8109874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsandnightskies/pseuds/starcrossed
Summary: Prompt: You walk into your house and it’s completely different — furniture, decor, all changed. It doesn’t look like the same house anymore. And nobody’s home.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have a clue what this is supposed to be but I needed to write something short to unblock my writer's block so I googled a quick prompt. Here it is. Contains 2 sentences of dialogue.

Stiles had a weird dream. It had been light out, his dad's car wasn't in the driveway and the house had been quiet. Too quiet. Most of the time, the old pipes in the house would make some kind of noise or the kids next door would be playing outside, in the backyard. Because of the thin walls, it would be loudly audible in Stiles's room. In this dream, he'd gotten up, out of bed, like on any normal school day. He took a leak, went dwnstairs for some breakfast and got dressed. Everything seemed normal and completely unlike any other dream he'd ever had. In fact, no dream had seemed this real since the Nogitsune had inhabited his body for a while. In a sudden flash of panic, _not this again, I can't hurt all these people again_ , he counted his fingers. Eleven. He had eleven fingers. Which meant that this was a dream. His breathing sped up.

Stiles put his hands on the bathroom sink and looked at himself in the mirror. Apart from the extra finger, he looked normal. Human. But then again, he'd looked human to himself when the Nogitsune had been controlling him, taken over his body.

He became light-headed, vision starting to blur. A panic attack was rapidly approaching. "Wake up!" he yelled at his reflection. "Wake up!" His hand was in his hair, pulling, trying to wake himself up. His vision blurred further, the mirror distorting his features into something monstrous. The surface rippled and seemed to open up, pulling Stiles into its endless black abyss as he heard himself screaming.

The sound ended abruptly when the world shocked to a stop, black fog disappearing and revealing his own bathroom. Except it looked different this time. His dad's shaving cream was gone, his own hair gel suddenly a different brand, toothbrush a different colour. The walls were blue tiles instead of white.

Stiles heard himself pant, trying to catch his breath, trying to get oxygen into his lungs and _breathe_. It seemed like he had just landed in a different dream, one where his house, his _home_ wasn't his. So he counted his fingers again.

Ten.

He had ten fingers.

Why couldn't he seem to catch his breath? He was okay, he was awake. So why didn't it feel like it? Why did it feel like he ended up in a different dream? What other tricks or tests were there to see if you were awake or dreaming?

It took him a minute to remember the tricks he taught himself when the Nogitsune had taken over control of his body and he hadn't known if he was awake or asleep for weeks. Counting his fingers was usually enough, but he suddenly remembered that time in Mr Yukimura's history class when he hadn't been able to read the assigned page. The letters had slowly slipped of the page, disappeared into nothing until only a blank page was left. Reading. You were unable to read in dreams.

He stumbled out of the bathroom, tripping over himself in his hurry to get to his room and his books. But as soon as he got out of the bathroom, he knew something was off. The walls were a different colour, doors had different doorknobs. It was his house, but it _wasn't_ his house. Against his better judgement, he went into his room, turning the knob slowly. It was clearly a kid's room, toys littering the floor and a Disney bedspread on the small bed.

The room was empty, no one in sight. It didn't take Stiles long to locate the bookshelf - it was right above the desk. He grabbed a book with fairytales off the shelf  and almost ripped out a few pages in his haste to open it. It was dusty, the small particles tickling his nose as he inhaled. It seemed that this book hadn't been read in a long time. His shaking hands made it difficult to read the text, but Stiles realized that he could read it. The words weren't messed up, the letters weren't dripping off the page. He was reading a fairytale about Snow White and Rose Red.

He was awake.

So where was he? Because this house, no matter how much it looked like his own house, was decidedly _not_ his house. Had he ended up in some kind of alternate universe? Did he even exist here? Who owned this house here in this universe? There were no pictures in this room, no answers to his questions so he decided to go downstairs. Maybe there he could find some answers as to where he was.

Downstairs, he found a picture in the hallway and he recognized himself, but as a kid. In fact, all the pictures he was in, he couldn't be older than nine years old. There were no pictures where he was older. Was he in some alternate universe but in the past?

But there were no toys in the living room, no Disney DVDs stacked next to the tv, no X Box set up. It didn't seem like a child was living here or had even lived here at all, with the single exception of the room he saw upstairs. It took some sneaking around to find the obituary.

_Our beloved son Stiles._

Stiles didn't really comprehend it at all. How did he end up in an alternate universe where he had died as a kid? Most texts he had ever read about people going to alternate universes were to teach them something, maybe learn more about themselves. How was he supposed to learn something from this? He was dead in this universe.

Where was his dad? Was his mom still alive? Did they miss him? What had happened?

Mind almost drowning in questions, his breathing sped up again and the room danced before his eyes, his own young face the last thing he sees before everything goes black.

Stiles opens his eyes to a mossy green, like a forest on an autumn day when the sun hasn't quite broken through the clouds yet and bathes the trees in a faint glow. The forest is moving, shifting around and slowly, Stiles's eyes focus on Derek's.

"Hey, I could barely wake you up. Are you okay? Your dream seemed to bother you."

"Yeah, I had the weirdest dream," Stiles sighed. "But I'm okay now. I'm with you."

He saw Derek's soft smile and allowed himself to curl into his boyfriend before going back to sleep. It was only six thirty after all.


End file.
